The Calamity Mod and much of its contents have a rich lore associated with them. While most of it is unnecessary to the central gameplay, it can be read and understood as a means to make the world feel more alive and give bosses and items more purpose.
- 1 Lore Items
- 2 Item Tooltips
- 3 Boss Lore
- 3.1 Desert Scourge
- 3.2 Crabulon
- 3.3 The Hive Mind
- 3.4 The Perforators
- 3.5 The Slime God
- 3.6 Cryogen
- 3.7 Brimstone Elemental
- 3.8 Aquatic Scourge
- 3.9 Calamitas
- 3.10 The Leviathan
- 3.11 The Siren
- 3.12 Astrum Aureus
- 3.13 Astrum Deus
- 3.14 The Plaguebringer Goliath
- 3.15 Ravager
- 3.16 Profaned Guardians
- 3.17 Bumblebirb
- 3.18 Providence, the Profaned Goddess
- 3.19 Sentinels of the Devourer
- 3.20 Polterghast
- 3.21 The Devourer of Gods
- 3.22 Jungle Dragon, Yharon
- 3.23 Supreme Calamitas
- 4 Biome Lore
- 5 Other Lore
- 6 Notes
- 7 Trivia
Lore Items[edit | edit source]
Lore Items are items with a piece of lore written into them, and are dropped by their respective boss on their first kill. The descriptions of these items are insights and commentary on both locations the player has been to and bosses the player has slain.
Item Tooltips[edit | edit source]
Certain items contain lore in their descriptions, hinting at or stating pieces of the overarching story.
|Astreal Defeat||Ethereal bow of the tyrant king's mother |
The mother strongly discouraged acts of violence throughout her life
Though she kept this bow close to protect her family in times of great disaster
|Exoblade||Ancient blade of Yharim's weapons and armors expert, Draedon|
| Greatsword of Judgement
Greatsword of Blah
|A pale white sword from a forgotten land|
You can hear faint yet comforting whispers emanating from the blade
'No matter where you may be you are never alone.
I shall always be at your side, my lord'
|Rock||The first object Xeroc ever created|
|Rune of Kos||A relic of the profaned flame|
Contains the power hunted relentlessly by the sentinels of the cosmic devourer
|Terminus||A ritualistic artifact, thought to have brought upon The End many millennia ago |
Sealed away in the abyss, far from those that would seek to misuse it
|The First Shadowflame||One of the first magical artifacts, granted to a disheveled race of humans long ago by the Tyrant King Yharim. |
Little did the humans know of the horrid curse that lied within...
|Tyrant Yharim's Ultisword||Necrotic blade of Jungle King Yharim|
Boss Lore[edit | edit source]
Most Calamity bosses have their own lore, which detail their origin, history, and other information. These entries can be found on the official forum thread.
When the Sea King, Amidias refused to partake in the forbidden ritual to awaken the Moon Lord/The Dark Lord from his slumber and imprisonment on the moon the Jungle Tyrant King, Yharim had the witch Calamitas evaporate all of the seas water with fire and brimstone. This event caused the great sea worm, now known as the Desert Scourge, to go on a rampage. Deprived of its previous food source, Crab and Shark meat, it devoured all of the inhabitants of the now dried up sea kingdom. Now the sea worm has dried out and become a hollow shell of its former self, constantly seeking fresh meat for it to devour.
Calamitas' legendary ocean incineration killed off countless creatures, boiling them alive or leaving them for dead in an inhospitable environment. The large but docile crabs that once roamed the ocean floor sought refuge underground; instinct guided them to the dank caves most resembling their former habitat...but it was simply not enough. The crabs perished in fields of luminescent mushrooms, their corpses becoming host to innumerable fungi. Only the barest scraps of meat remain in their parasite-ridden husks, compelled to move and feed even in death.
The Hive Mind, the grotesque creature that lies in the depths of the corruption, is actually a colony of creatures that travel together, combining their abilities to form a greater presence responsible for spreading and sustaining the corruption. Corruptions are just breeding grounds to creatures which form larger and larger clusters.
Once a single large worm, the Perforators are separate entities that have lost the need for their eyes after evolving to live as a parasite inside the creature called the Brain of Cthulhu. If they lose their host, they burrow as a group to the depths of the crimson and wait for a new host to come across them. Unluckily for you, their new host is you.
The Slime God, one of the very first creatures to ever come to exist in the Terrarian's world, is the core and control unit of all things slimy. Slimes are some of the first creatures to evolve from the very first living cells present from ancient times, and even though they do not possess sentience themselves their 'core' is what gives them shape and allows them to move about the world. The slime god was born after a bacteria evolved and began consuming other bacteria around it. Eventually, after gaining enough cellular mass it began absorbing larger flora and fauna, gaining intelligence from each creature it enveloped. It became large enough to begin influencing other beings around it through telekinesis. Through telekinetic energy the slime god shapes it's slimes from water and various dead plant and animal matter, it then wills them to consume more dead matter to continue growing the slime population. Through this process the slime god has formed the Crimulan and Ebonian Slime Gods to defend itself from any possible threats.
Yharim's prison for the archmage of the ice castle, Cryogen. It is a representation of Yharim's bitter hatred for the master of ice. When Yharim was young he ventured from the jungle temple to the ancient tundra where Permafrost resided. Yharim asked to learn from him in order to "peacefully" calm the denizens of the underworld. But the archmage saw through his ruse and viewed only bitter contempt within Yharim's heart and the fiery urge to annihilate the underworld obsidian towers and their inhabitants. When the archmage refused Yharim took his leave, bowing to the archmage and returning to his home. However, the archmage had not realized that Yharim had a contingency plan in place; around his dwelling a massive trap had been set. A magic circle set to overload one’s power causing the user to lose control. Permafrost suspected nothing, until the moment in which his own spell caused his castle to collapse inwards, trapping his body in a radial structure. He had not given the Tyrant another thought. Cryogen is what remains, a mindless frozen structure that was contained afterwards by Yharim due to its uncontrollable nature and powerful magic.
As the world took shape long ago, the planet's will adopted a physical form - born from the elements as they formed, becoming five as they distinguished themselves from one another. When the first of humanity discovered these creatures, they were awed by their beauty and magic. The humans worshiped the Elementals - their faith and love empowering them into nigh-goddesses. They enjoyed their newfound strength and followers for thousands of years...but as humans grew aware of and understood the world around them, they also grew disillusioned with their idols. Their religions and power dwindled over the course of centuries; the gift of magic was taken and harnessed by humans, further undermining the Elementals.
The sprite born of the Underworld's flames was the first and the strongest of the five "sisters" - the last to retain her following while the others quietly returned to the aspects of the world that gave rise to them. It wasn't meant to last; a human entered the Underworld one day, abyssal flames burning in her wake as she wielded catastrophic magic that put all of Hell itself to shame. Dispatched under the Jungle Tyrant's command, Calamitas laid waste to the civilization at the core of the planet and reduced it to smoldering rubble in a single night. What had once been the capital of the Underworld was left a foul blackened monument whose unholy energy cursed all who set foot upon it.That Elemental was no match for Calamitas. Barely clinging to life after the witch tired of her massacre and vanished, what had once been a goddess in all but name was reduced to a mere beast fighting for survival within the twisted ruins of the capital - kept alive by little more than her natural affinity with the chaotic magic that lingered within the crags. Her few remaining followers lost in a human's seemingly pointless slaughter, the Brimstone Elemental swore that humanity would be her enemy until the end of time; any attempt to worship her doubtless a mockery for which she would use all her power to kill the perpetrator, no matter how pitiable a shadow she was of her former self.
The long-lost relative of The Desert Scourge mutated by the toxic sulphuric waters above the Abyss. Due to its adaptations to thrive in the sulphuric ocean and ample food supply of catfish and flounder it is far less aggressive than its relative. Those that venture to the sulphuric ocean should exercise caution however, as this sea beast is still a carnivorous predator and will immediately attack if provoked.
Absolute mastery over the forces of darkness. Enough magical power to reduce whole oceans to barren deserts. The bane of the Underworld. It was with great reason that such a powerful witch, whose very title became synonymous with the disaster she heralded, was considered the prized jewel of Yharim's world-conquering forces. If she were to rebel, she would slaughter anything Yharim threw at her unless he himself confronted her - and even then, the outcome was questionable. He needed insurance in the form of an unwaveringly loyal countermeasure.
The many attempts to clone Yharon were a colossal failure, but the knowledge gleaned from them became immensely valuable. Personally overseen by the Jungle Tyrant, another project was silently initiated to produce clones of Calamitas. Physical shells were molded and artificial souls filled them, derived from past experiments and Calamitas’ own brand of necromancy. The resulting child of science and dark magic would inevitably be weaker than the original, but that too would be beneficial in its own right.
However, even with the utmost secrecy enforced by Yharim’s efforts, they underestimated the capabilities of the witch. When the project’s lead necromancer was lost in a disaster gathering souls from the depths of hell, Calamitas took an interest in the skilled mage’s demise and personally dredged his soul from the void of death. Although his thoughts were reduced to mad gibberish, she tore enough knowledge from his fragmented mind to confirm her growing suspicions of Yharim.The tyrant’s fear was realized; she betrayed him. Loosed into the Temple by Calamitas, the reactivated Golem’s trail of chaos swept through their hidden laboratory and breached the developing clone’s containment. Yharim’s forces swiftly destroyed the rampaging machine, but the damage was done. The clone created as a contingency against Calamitas’ betrayal had escaped - freed after inciting that very betrayal. That replica aimlessly roams the night with no will and no purpose, knowing nothing but to act and fight exactly as it was designed to from birth.
The beast we call the Leviathan has not always been the behemoth we know it as now. Once an armored angler of unknown origins, she spent much of her juvenile life in the depths of the oceans, preying upon any unfortunate enough to stray into her territory. It was clear, however, that she was no simple fish. Constantly surrounded by an entourage of waiting males, the Leviathan was likely an alpha female, and perhaps the very last of her kind. Any attempts by researchers to delve deeper into her habits however, had proven risky and were thus hardly undertaken, as there was little to be gained from such an expedition. And so, she lived a wanton life, devouring to her heart’s content, finding little to oppose her. However, there would come a day when eventually, a creature would escape her steely jaws. Like a lantern in a deep night, a distant light flitted through the darkness. However foolish it was to draw attention to oneself in that ebony pit, it seemed that the creature was ignorant of dangers, or foolishly confident. Lying in patient wait, the Leviathan hungrily eyed the dancing light. And her chance soon came. With a roar and a surge of water, which likely raised turbulence even on the surface above, she charged with her jaws agape to swallow the creature whole, and yet… In the settling debris thrown up from her attack, the light flickered in the darkness, clearly shocked, but only for a second, as it soon departed, having learned of the dangers of the deep. The Leviathan herself lay stunned, for none had escaped so frivolously from her maw before.
However, decades passed, and this singular incident soon faded from the Leviathan’s memory. She continued to feast and grow, becoming larger and larger, until at one point, it became clear that her bulk would no longer allow to hunt as efficiently as she had done before. In a cruel twist, the once terror of the deep became immobile, and began to starve, no longer having the ability to sustain her massive physical form. She came to a rest upon the muddy seabed, hardly able to rise from her position. Had anyone come across her at that point, they might’ve mistaken her gargantuan form resting upon the sea bed as a geological structure, so encrusted in barnacles and other ocean flotsam from age was she. And as the Leviathan began to close its eyes perhaps for the final time, in its dimming vision, it saw a dancing light. The light flitted through the obsidian waters, like a lantern in a deep night. And the memory from all those years resurfaced. Angry and desperate, the Leviathan somehow found the energy to pull its massive form from the seabed, straining, roaring weakly, to- in its final moments- vanquish the one creature which might have reason or cause to look down on the proud, yet crippled predator. And crippled she was. Unable to keep going, she collapsed once more to the sea bed in a massive cloud of silt.In these moments, the light came closer, wary, yet still innocently curious. The Leviathan’s massive eye shifted while it lay on the bottom, watching the light. It turned out to be a vaguely female humanoid, though not different from a typical fish in its lower body. It gave a start at noticing that it was watched, and waved a hand in greeting. Of course, this meant nothing to the Leviathan, who rolled her eye back, and closed her eyelids. She would now rather be left to die in peace. Yet after a period of time, unmeasured from the Leviathan’s perspective as she had long since lost track of such trivial things, she felt something brushing her scarred snout. Once again opening her eyes, she saw the creature which had visited her before. From her arms, a massive trawler’s net trailed behind her, filled with fish and attached to drowned fishermen, who had likely once called that net their own. The creature smiled upon seeing that the Leviathan had noticed her. She swam into the Leviathan’s slack jaws, fearless of her situation, and began to empty the net. However, even as the Leviathan gradually regained her former strength, she lay still, allowing the creature to roam unimpeded around her. It was now clear that this creature had shown nothing but good intent to her. It had an interest in the Leviathan. So when the creature began to beckon for the Leviathan to move once more, to follow her to the surface, it took only a moment of hesitation for the Leviathan to ascend, going slowly to acclimatize to the change in pressure.Nearer to the surface, though no beasts of the size she used to devour lived there, she found an abundance of food. The Siren, for that was what the creature was, lured unsuspecting sailors to the Leviathan’s position, acting as a lure in exchange of the company and safety of the massive beast. The Siren's voice was both melodious and alluring, and her ability to cloud the skies and obstruct vision created a fantastical illusion in which entire fleets of boats would disappear, never to be seen again. Under the Siren's care and companionship, the Leviathan eventually regained her strength. The ancient beast would spawn legends aplenty, of unknown noises in the mists, and colossal shapes moving on the horizon. However, for the most part, the Leviathan lay dormant in shallow waters, resting, in order to conserve her strength. This was her lifestyle now, and while it may not have suited the former terror of the deep, it did not mean she was a pacified beast. If any were to disturb its slumber, or fall for the Siren’s illusions, she would awaken with her former grandeur, to devour the one who had strayed too far from the shore.
The mysterious creature that had found and aided the old Leviathan had a long and troubled story of her own.
She was born into floating city built by a civilization that worshipped a living siren goddess. Only the high caste sirens hand-picked by the goddess were allowed to reproduce, and their children were given to the other sirens to foster. One particularly weak newborn was handed over to a troublesome siren who lived on the fringes of the city. The city's cruel laws often led to long periods of exile as punishment for insubordination or other troubles, and the elites believed raising a child could help reform this siren's spirit.
The outcast siren accepted the feeble child and gave her the name Nahlyn. Growing up outside of the city's norms, Nahlyn experienced a very unusual childhood compared to a typical siren. After learning of the twisted law of her species and the experiences her own parent, Nahlyn grew to despise the group, beginning to consider it a "cult". The elite of the city determined that Nahlyn's upbringing and her attitude were unacceptable; Nahlyn was only fourteen when she returned home to find two zealots standing over the crumpled corpse of her mother. They bound her and brought her back to the city for cult indoctrination, gagging her when she screamed and rebelled. Nahlyn spent the next several years serving the siren cult, feigning obedience and climbing the ranks in the hopes that one day she could escape her waking nightmare. She would prepare for years, to grasp her chance.
That chance would soon come, disguised as a catastrophe. The city was prone to the whims of the ocean currents, and one day, drifted near the mouth of a massive abyss. Knowing full well the dangers of the deep, the worshippers immediately took action, closing off many of their open streets, and propelling their home further from the mouth of the cave. However, it was too late. Rising from the darkness, a massive beast- a true leviathan- roared in displeasure. It would take all they had to even escape alive from its jaws. Nahlyn would take advantage of this. Earlier that day, she had been entrusted with guard duty in the inner temple by the elites who had assumed her indoctrination was successful. It had been her chance to steal a powerful weapon and make an escape. This was made only easier by the Leviathan’s rage. As massive tremors rumbled through the halls, most of the surrounding guards barked orders in confusion, and many left to help defend the walls. In seconds, she had been left alone in her area to guard the inner sanctum. Only those who were in possession of the two key parts to the sacred weapon were left behind, panicked, and hopelessly frightened. Nahlyn, however, had nothing to lose compared to those who had lived decadent and opulent lifestyles within the temple complex. In a flash, she had slammed her spear into the back of one’s helmet, knocking them unconscious, and, turning the corner, buried it into the gut of other, pinning them to the stone. Still gritting her teeth in determination, she tore the key pieces from their necks, even as the rubble tumbled from the ceiling above, hurriedly assembled them, opening the door to the mythical trident, Atlantis.Without hesitation, she grasped the weapon in her hands, snapping it from its pedestal. A surge of power flowed through her, as she felt the Siren’s powerful affinity with water coursing through her body. She heard shouts from outside. Another guard, probably having also abandoned their post, rushed inside. Without hesitation, she spun the trident so its prongs pointed towards the unfortunate guard. The pressure surrounding her dropped with a lurch, and the sound of shrieking metal mixed with screams filled the air, as the guard’s armor collapsed in on itself. Turning her back on the bloody scene, she willed the water within the chamber to burst the temple walls like an eggshell. Finally, she was free. Amidst the chaos of the city, as the Leviathan tore through its wall’s, and the sudden realization that they had been betrayed, Nahlyn shot upwards, aiming to reach the sun of the world above, and the freedom it represented to her. Later on, she would have time to stop, and remembering the creature who had allowed her escape, she vowed that if ever the Leviathan would need aid, she would assist it in any way she could.
When the Astral virus first appeared in Terraria to warp the landscape around it, the site became a phenomenon of interest to Yharim himself. What destructive power, what force of chaos, could have made such drastic changes in a phage that it could assimilate nearly any material into something similar to its own molecular structure? Commissioning Draedon to research the pathogen, Yharim had him look for a method to take advantage of the virus’ virtually alchemic traits, to see if they could be harnessed to serve his needs. Of course, Draedon’s first step was to collect samples. To accomplish this objective, he decided to once more construct an automaton to do his bidding. Although his assistants were at his disposal, he decided against it, as the environment would clearly not be suitable for humans. However, his blunder was in underestimating the enslaving factor of the Astral virus. Even the circuit boards and metal of the great machine he had built to lumber across the infected landscape and bring back subjects, succumbed to the enslaving will of the pathogen. However, this was by no means a disappointment to Draedon. To him, this was a sign of great promise, showing that the extent of the virus’ power was not limited to organic beings. Finding no need for the great machine any longer, Draedon abandoned it. Now, it stays dormant in the Astral Biomes, only awaking to protect these infections from outside threats.
Since ancient times, humans have looked to the skies with admiration and wonder; countless religions place their gods and their heavens amongst the skies. The sun was their god of warmth and life, banishing the darkness and offering hope. The moon was an idol amidst the night - a symbol of light, yet a beguiling one that beckoned with madness.
The stars, they once said, were no single gods. The wondrous stream of stars that stretched across the sky on cloudless nights - the source of those lights was a divine serpent of incomprehensible proportions. Its very nature was unimaginable, to the point that its presence in their reality could only be glimpsed through the countless stars its body birthed. As the collective faith of humanity gathered, it gave rise to the manifestation of their belief: a true god of the stars, soaring through the cosmos.
But even gods could be laid low. Conquering the land countless years after the god of the star's legend was born, the Jungle Tyrant looked to the skies and saw yet another realm to dominate - beginning by striking down Astrum Deus with his own Devourer of Gods. Empowered by those it had already consumed, the Devourer tore open the larger divine serpent’s gut and burrowed in, feasting on its body and killing it from the inside out before crushing its husk to pieces between its coils and scattering the remains to the cold void of space.
In ancient times, it was said that the god of the stars would descend upon the planet in its last days. Its body would infuse the earth with astral power and transform lesser lifeforms into its guardians. The power lingering in its corpse attracted worms to itself, empowering them so that they may grow - and Astrum Deus may one day return to the cosmos. Even when torn asunder, the god's corpse held power; just as the legend that gave rise to it claimed, those fragments of its body would one day fall to the planet and choose a successor to the god of the stars.
The Jungle Tyrant conducted a great number of projects and experiments during his rule. It was during one such experiment that Yharim and his researchers unwittingly created a terrible yet powerful weapon - infectious nanomachines capable of spreading to virtually any organic material that rotted the host from the inside out, sustaining the victim's life as they suffered to enable their proliferation. Yharim swiftly declared the results too dangerous for use and locked the bio-tech virus away under high security. However, one of Yharim's head scientists recovered the nanomachines from storage and silently added them to another of Yharim's projects as it was prepared for field use. Armed with a slew of advanced weaponry and filled with a sadistic disease, mechanized Queen Bees poisoned their hives as they were stationed throughout the Jungle. Their lesser brethren contracted the plague and proceeded to spread it further still, cascading through the ecosystem in the blink of an eye. The outbreak was uncontrollable, the nanomachines impossible to purge from the cyborg insects without destroying them entirely. As the Jungle around him wasted away in agony, the tyrant king turned his eye to the devastating might of his living weapons. The mechanical abominations became known and feared as the Plaguebringers - capable of razing a thriving city to the ground with ordnance as easily as they could transform it into an apocalyptic wasteland. Though not the most powerful of Yharim's forces, the Plaguebringers promised their victims a gruesome, painful, and extremely slow demise.
As the Jungle Tyrant's forces conquered the land, those who stood in his path used anything and everything they could to defeat or delay his endless onslaught. The strife of war pushes humans to the limit of their being, drawing both virtue and depravity to the surface in the darkest moments. Driven by desperation, it was in one such last stand that the honor of the dead was defiled; innumerable corpses of those already slain in battle were reanimated as a single misshapen abomination.
It was not resurrection, but allowing that which had fallen still to move once more. Its body was an unbreakable rampart of bone still blazing with an inferno of black magic, and its weaponry sufficient to equip an army. Its mind lacked the capacity for any thought beyond slaughtering all in its sight - but that was all its creators desired in their darkest moment.After their final gambit killed the men that had cornered them, the flesh Golem's makers were butchered in short order. With the regenerative durability of a living fortress and destructive power capable of waging a war all on its own, the Ravager was never captured or defeated. It continues to roam the land long after the disappearance of the Tyrant it was meant to combat, mindlessly following the one order built into it until the day it is destroyed.
The Profaned Guardians, born of the profaned flame that is never allowed to be extinguished, are the eternal servants of their god, Providence. They are the physical manifestations of the souls of deceased worshipers that were promised eternal life in exchange for their protective services; they are undying, and will reform some time after their demise from the core of Providence herself. They guard to the death both Providence and her artifacts, which were used as mediums to communicate between Providence and the flora and fauna of Terraria before Yharim appeared. When the tyrant began spreading his influence across the land the guardians fought to repel him. What started off as a perceived victory for the guardians was soon followed by the unleashing of the tyrant's trusted Devourer and his Sentinels. The guardians were destroyed, and retreated back to their god to be reformed once more. Years later the Terrarian manages to piece together one of the profaned artifacts, awakening the guardians once again.
The Bumblebirb, created by Yharim in a failed experiment to engineer an army of lesser Yharon clones, was released into the Terraria Jungle to wander aimlessly and attack those strong enough to pose a threat to Yharim himself. They have the uncanny ability to replicate/reproduce with themselves in order to mass-produce more tiny Bumblebirbs that will eventually grow into larger birbs. The only thing preventing the birbs from overpopulating the entire Jungle is their engineered "hormonal reproduction limit" protocol. This protocol shuts down the birb's sexual hormones when there are a large amount of other birbs present near them, preventing the birbs from reproducing with themselves further.
Fire has no desires to speak of, nor does it have pains to lament. It has but a purpose: to burn is its meaning, to turn to ash is its resolve. Such is Providence, a being of alleviating light, and corrupting twilight. Born from a colossal impact of dark and light magic, during the ancient conflicts between angels and devils, her creation was of holy and demonic origins, and her presence embodied that concept in its denial of both. An indifferent crystal, formed in the heat and power of the mana. Within, a conscious spark took a mind of its own. In the midst of the torrent of magic, Providence felt the good, and the evil: the utmost desires of the world, for ill-intent and to live. It was disgusted. Held in limbo between both forces, it began to take a form of its own; from the land itself, a shell of stone, and from the blaze of battle, her wings. Anything her flames swept across was cleansed, purified, and reduced to an impartial ash. In life and death, there is vice, there is virtue. In purity, where nothing lives and nothing dies, neither sin exists. That is her objective. A world cleansed of desire. However, in the Devourer’s and its servant’s mad search to consume her, such deeds are risky, and the scouring of a world is not an action which would escape its knowledge. Thus, Providence basks in the center of the sun, where she remains dormant, gathering power from the energy of the nuclear fusion. It is there that she waits, patient and dispassionate, to one day be able to descend upon the earth, consuming all in a purifying flame. Nothing would be able to withstand the heat of the Goddess, tempered by the sun, and fueled by a singular purpose. She would leave nothing but an uncanny, sinless world behind. However, if you were able to grasp one of her relics, a substantial core of her power, it would surely incite her wrath. She would descend unto the land prematurely, not having gathered enough energy, nor with her relic properly harnessed, leaving her weak. Her aim would be to reclaim her artifact, and annihilate the culprit. However, with proper exploitation of the method described, a skilled enough opponent could potentially destroy her in battle, to avert the fate of the world.
The Sentinels of the Devourer are the three entities that answer directly and only to The Devourer of Gods; they hold no loyalty of any kind to anyone else, except under their master's orders. Each one is bound to the Devourer under a magical pact - offering their abilities and allegiance in exchange for a fragment of the immense power the cosmic serpent has amassed from its divine prey. The Devourer wields their strength, and they in turn are infused with the Devourer's might.
Their current collective mission is to hunt down the Profaned Goddess and expose her where the Devourer of Gods can manifest to kill her. Drawn to the magic of Providence, it is likely that even a rune infused with that same magic would suffice to provoke them - and if all three were to fall, perhaps the Devourer of Gods may begin to take notice of what slew them…
The Devourer of Gods' ability to cross dimensions was not mastered instantly. Magic of such incredible scale demands incredibly precise use and knowledge to avoid disaster - and attempts to experiment with it will inevitably result in at least a few accidents. During an attempt to breach the barrier between worlds, one such mishap occurred: a deadly rift formed, in which the concept of reality itself faltered.
It required the power of both the Devourer and Calamitas to seal the void, stabilizing it with a localized dimensional reinforcement field and further encasing it in a shell of cosmic steel - but a strange phenomenon occurred as the rift was contained. The matter and the lives it consumed were regurgitated as shapeless masses of dark energy, draining the life out of every living being around it. Despite being a highly valuable research specimen, it was ultimately deemed impossible to control after extensive testing and condemned to waste away in the abandoned Dungeon.
The Ceaseless Void is only technically a Sentinel. It is under the same magical contract as the others, but it has no mind - only a will to consume the life force of others. According to Calamitas’ research, one of two events will occur if its casing is ever compromised: either reality will force the void to collapse and annihilate itself, or it will spill out and spread without end - reducing the entire universe to waste scattered in the abyss between dimensions.
No living creature knows the true origin of Signus. Some claim it is a wraith, bound by vengeance and controllable only through dark magic. Others insist it is simply a mage of the highest caliber. Others still believe it to hail from another planet, or possibly another dimension entirely. But all can agree on its unparalleled killing prowess - capable of exterminating virtually anyone, anywhere, regardless of the conditions or defenses surrounding its target.
Even those who contract Signus can rarely say for certain who their assassin is. It has been seen consuming the bodies of others and adopting their appearance afterwards; descriptions of its "true form" vary wildly. The most consistent pattern in those believed to have been Signus is the manifestation of ethereal lights when forced into open combat, commanded through unknown means to blind its opponent or burn them to ashes.
Signus' one and only failure to kill a target was against the Jungle Tyrant, Yharim. Manifesting from nothing in the inner sanctums of the Jungle Temple, it was foiled only by its target summoning of the Devourer of Gods to his aid - and even then, Signus evaded death for an extended period of time within the Devourer's own dimension. Both of them soon came to realize that neither could kill the other; a grudging ceasefire was eventually agreed upon, which slowly evolved into an agreement of mutual respect. Signus itself became the Devourer's favorite means of eliminating targets when delicacy and stealth were needed over sheer power and size. Of the three Sentinels, none is closer to fulfilling their current objective than the ethereal assassin.
For all of their potential for growth and killing power, worms have been looked down upon by their enemies and regarded as little more than burrowing pests for centuries. However, the rise of the Devourer of Gods turned such a conception completely on its head, instilling a fresh wave of fear and paranoia into the world at large. Worms were no longer merely exterminated for being a nuisance, but actively hunted and wiped out. The Devourer's own species - already regarded with caution for their power to assimilate the abilities of their prey - was rendered virtually extinct within the span of a few short years.
It was only by the hand of fortune that the Devourer itself happened across the last of its species: a newborn worm that could hardly fend for itself, starving and on the brink of death. The Devourer took pity on its fellow kind and brought it to Yharim's forces, who restored it to health and outfitted it with armor akin to that of the Devourer. Despite having spared it once, the Devourer of Gods is highly aware of its protégé's potential, and would not hesitate to turn against the lesser worm should it grow strong enough to threaten its master.
However, that day has not yet come. The newly christened Storm Weaver resides in the outer reaches of the atmosphere, preying on the wyverns that roam the skies with it. Though lacking the advanced mind developed from assimilating countless human prey, it has enough capacity to process the orders given to it - while retaining the feral animosity of a beast to direct against those it hunts.
Over the course of Yharim's conquest over the world, countless people perished - whether killed by his forces, imprisoned and fed alive to his monsters, or struck down by Yharim himself. Few died peacefully, and many cursed the Jungle Tyrant's name with their last breath. Some found peace in their afterlife; others lingered in the physical realm as phantoms, their hatred and anguish immutable even by death.
The Dungeon served as Yharim's prison during his rule - and for the less fortunate, his torture and execution chambers. Attracted to the bloody reek of pain and death, the restless spirits flocked to the Dungeon in droves, possessing the corpses of the deceased and animating armors and weapons. Though easily dispatched at first, their numbers grew and grew - seemingly without end as the death toll of Yharim’s reign continued to rise. Deeming the Dungeon a waste of his men and resources, he withdrew them and left the dead to rot.
As spirits clinging to reality through little more than hatred, they held no loyalty to their fellow dead. Many swiftly turned on each other - souls devouring souls in an instinctual bid for power. As lesser souls grew swift and elusive, the first souls to feed continued to fight and consume one another until a legion took form, lacking even the concept of predator and prey. Hatred for the one that first slew them and a desire for more that could never be satisfied; reduced from countless living men to a mindless beast, nothing else drove the amalgamation now.Scraping fragments of metal into patchwork armor and animating broken chains with its essence to better hunt its lesser brethren, the Polterghast roams the depths of the Dungeon away from prying eyes. It continues to feed and fester in the darkness until it feels the power of the object of its collective hatred once more...or until it detects one whose power has begun approaching the point of indistinguishability.
The Devourer of Gods, originally known as a mere myth in Terrarian legends, is a monstrous cybernetic serpent from the depths of an eldritch-conceived pocket dimension. Its home is devoid of all lifeforms, with an endless blanket of hazy purple mist extending as far as the eye can see. This was not always the Devourer's home, as it used to tunnel through the earth in the Terrarian's world, eating and crushing all that dared to stand in its way. However, as the Devourer's food sources became more adept at avoiding its attack patterns, it began to starve, leading it to use the power of those it devoured to tear a hole in the dimensions. This is now where the Devourer hides, awaiting for some foolish challenger, be it god or otherwise, to awaken it from its slumber. The Devourer will occasionally launch 'sneak attacks' by tearing through the dimensions and eviscerating unsuspecting victims to feed its ever-growing segments.
The Devourer came to be after Lord Yharim discovered that a giant sentient vibrant purple worm creature had killed and eaten a platoon of his best soldiers. Yharim originally wanted to kill the creature for revenge, but instead he found a better purpose for the beast. Yharim made a deal with the Devourer, as long as the Devourer would serve him until death he would feed the Devourer the most powerful entities he could capture. The Devourer agreed, and soon after Yharim captured his two most hated traitors, Braelor and Statis. Yharim threw them inside the pocket dimension without any way to defend themselves. Yharim watched and waited until he could hear the screams of the two demi-gods as they were crunched and torn to bloody pieces by his newfound pet. Afterwards Yharim rewarded the Devourer further by armoring him with reinforced spiked steel shells, specifically designed to resist piercing and explosive attacks.
Yharim grew up with no one besides his monstrous cohorts to keep him company after the passing of (nearly) his entire family...with the exception of his loyal dragon guardian, Yharon. Long ago, a powerful ranger found an egg within the depths of the Jungle Temple. She gifted the egg to her son, Yharim, to raise as a companion while she was away on her missions. Before the egg hatched it was tossed into the underworld lava, along with Yharim's entire family due to the arrogance and despicable nature of the elder brother. However, the heat of the lava only caused the young dragon to mature more quickly. Soon, it hatched into a furious beast, and was able to save Yharim from his demise, though the same could not be said for the rest of his family. Badly burned and filled with hatred and contempt, Yharim slowly crawled onto the back of his faithful companion. The dragon comforted him as best it could before Yharim commanded that they return to the temple, a new power and order was about to rise. From there the dragon aided Yharim in annihilating the corrupt leaders of the jungle and putting the power in the hands of someone with a broken heart and many scars. The dragon was more than just a mere friend to the tyrant, the warmth and light from the dragon's soul often comforted the tyrant king in times of great depression. Without his pet, the tyrant would've been dead long ago.
Calamitas' true name is unknown. She was born in a mountainous region to a family of extremely skilled mages whose destructive powers rivaled those of demigods. They taught her how to master the vehement and volatile natures of dark magic, without giving in to the negative emotions that these powers can inflict upon the wielder. "The dark is within all of us, but when gazing into darkness the darkness also gazes into you," her father told her, quoting a famous philosopher. However, one morning, after a particularly heated clash with a rivaling faction, Calamitas woke up to find her parents and siblings dead, hung on crucifixes by an angry mob. Filled with hatred and rage, Calamitas forgot what her parents had taught her, and brought devastation upon the mob, burning them with hellfire and teleporting them to the underworld to be tortured for eternity. Calamitas, defeated and sobbing, retreated to her now-vacant cave carved out in the mountainside, taking to practicing the magic of necromancy in order to revive her parents and 2 brothers.
After her success in bringing back her siblings she heard an ethereal and almost-mesmerizing voice telling her to seek refuge in the Jungle. Following this, Calamitas wandered toward the Jungle, entranced by some unknown force. She found her way into the Jungle Temple, where Yharim, the man who had spoken to her, resided. He had felt her mastery over the arcane due to her immense and manic outburst of destructive power. He eventually recruited her into his army after several long and persuasive talks over what truly matters in their world. When Amidias refused to help Yharim in a ritual, to awaken a slumbering god, Yharim had Calamitas incinerate the oceans as her first mission, thus causing the Desert Scourge to go on a rampage.
But, somewhere deep down in her psyche, the good in Calamitas still existed. Weeks passed, each day she argued more and more with herself over what was necessary to achieve a goal, and ultimately began distrusting Yharim. One day, Calamitas met with Yharim and attempted to convince him that his logic is flawed. Yharim heard none of it, and sent her immediately out of his throne room. That very same day, Calamitas betrayed Yharim by unleashing the ancient Golem using one of the ancient Power Cells. The Golem rampaged through the temple, distracting Yharim and his soldiers. Calamitas used this time to sneak up to Yharim's throne and procured a few documents containing some helpful information on Yharim's most valiant opponents, Braelor and Statis.When Yharim and his men obliterated the Golem he cursed Calamitas for her betrayal. Due to her being a fair distance away the curse had a lessened impact on her, but it still managed to worm its way into her mind. Over time the curse slowly drove her mad, and ultimately she ended up returning to Yharim's side after the deaths of Braelor and Statis. Yharim has since removed the curse in exchange for her infallible servitude and unimaginable cruelty towards his opponents.
Biome Lore[edit | edit source]
The Astral infection hails from the depths of space, carried on the remains of corroded and broken planets. How those planets were destroyed remains a mystery, yet traces of dark matter tell tale of a chaotic force. Upon being shattered, fragments are scattered across the galaxy and collide with other celestial bodies. Wherever those meteors land, the surrounding ecosystems become modified, slowly twisting and warping to the infections will. This is all brought about by a single species of pathogen, carried by the meteor, and reformed by chaos to serve a new purpose. Gigantic monoliths of dark stone begin to rise from the ground. The trees rot away, replaced with pillar-like growths serving as further breeding grounds for the virus. Organic creatures are swiftly transformed beyond recognition as the microbe enters them and multiplies through their bodies, twisting them into self-mockeries that live and die to protect and spread the infection. The pillars exhale a thick violet haze that blankets the mutated land and permeates the system of any living being that wanders near, warping vision and stinging exposed flesh. The virus’ control does not stop at the planet and its residents. If any entity is powerful enough to consume these infected planets, then they too are prey for the infection. Their entire astronomical body becomes a breeding ground for its new parasites. The original host may continue to travel the cosmos - but their purpose of existence is reduced to spreading the virus across the universe as yet another vector of the disease. All across the cosmos, brought about by the phage, these areas of infection are not uncommon. Many worlds have fallen to the virus, and grow dark, as the virus devours the planet to its core. As it continues to spread, it overrules any semblance to natural order. The weak become strong, the hunters the hunted. But in the end, the final result is a world turned into a nightmare for all, ruled by fear.
Smoking slag, crackling flames, and charred stone are all that remain of the underworld’s once-grand civilization. Centuries ago, primitive societies found their way to these scorching caverns and discovered power in the form of an eternal red flame. They grew to worship the flame and its otherworldly might - and over the course of generations, founded a mighty empire of magic as they learned to harness the red flame for themselves.
Their hierarchy of privilege and magical prowess fostered great conflict. Those in power hoarded power, restricting the lower classes’ knowledge and suppressing research that threatened them. One clan revolted against the restrictive and greedy ways of the capitol - but like many others in the empire’s history, they were exiled. The capitol waited for them to return for revenge, when those in power would crush them as an example. However, that day would never come. For those exiled, had come upon a curious revelation. Centuries spent living in the presence of the eternal flame, had led to these mages to develop a natural connection to the brand of magic which utilized brimstone, rather than a forced link, such as the rituals carried out by by the capitol. Forced to stop relying on the eternal flame, they began to develop their own style of magic, drawing from darker forces. As they built upon their own strength and training, this clan soon grew to be as powerful as those who controlled the eternal flame. Yet, they had long decided against revenge, realizing that such an act would lower them to the level of those in hell. Decades passed, and generations passed down the gift of brimstone magic, from parent to child. In time, it would be this clan to sire the Witch, Calamitas.The empire of hell grew weak over the course of those long years, splintered by infighting and draconian rule. It was the beginning of a once-grand nation’s collapse - but its final death was at the hands of a conflict long past. An older Calamitas descended to the lands her ancestors called home and initiated a ruthless massacre, butchering the poor and weak on the outskirts first and then working in. Every death was another hateful soul twisted to her cause - every corpse, another revenant at her command - every life taken, another worshipper deprived from the eternal flame at the empire’s heart. These souls were twisted into abominations which to this day, haunt the slag. When no others remained, she corroded the essence of the flame with corrupt magic and flayed its spirit to the bone. Without joy, Calamitas fulfilled her orders and unknowingly avenged an ancient grudge long since lost to history. All that remained of that once-grand civilization was smoking slag, crackling flames, and charred stone.
A festering shore, where waves hiss upon lapping the crumbling stone of the beach. This is the Sulphur Sea, where the air stings your eyes, and each breath is a labor. Centuries ago, this was an ordinary coast, where the sun glimmered across blue waters, and fish danced in the light. A paradise, yet to Yharim, a simple tool; nothing more than a tomb for disposal of the dead who were of no importance. The beginning of Yharim’s rule was unimaginably harsh, far worse than those who came before him. His first action upon taking the throne was to enforce control upon much of the surrounding kingdoms, cities, and capitals. He succeeded in it all. Any who resisted further had their people massacred, or captured to serve under inhumane conditions, where they often collapsed, or ended their own lives to escape a worse fate. Inevitably, the body count rose. This increased further until finally, given no other options to dispose of the bodies, Yharim turned to what is now the Sulphur Sea. At first, it was but a gradual flow of corpses, only those of which could not be contained within the dungeon’s crypts. This continued for quite some time, until a threat soon arose from the spirits of the dead. A raging amalgamation of hatred and desires, which tore through any of the forces sent to dispose of the bodies into the dungeon; Yharim realized it would be unwise to feed more souls to the growing threat. Thus, he began to dispose of more corpses into the far ocean. The once crystal clear waters turned dark with the blood and entrails of many, choking life out of its waters. This process destroyed the delicate and precious ecosystem. Only the hardiest and most desperate of the creatures in its bay clung onto their last hopes, and soon had adapted to the toxic environment. As the years passed, the waters suffered only more offenses, serving further despicable purposes, such as the containment of Silva, or the dumping grounds for the runoff of Draedon’s experiments. At last, Yharim’s rule as a Tyrant had been solidified, allowing no resistance, or his anger was pacified. The flow of corpses was stemmed, and the cruel practice had ended. However, the damage was done. The sea was irreparably ruined, though now, centuries later, the only trace of the assault on the ecosystem is the stained beach, and poisoned water. Dangerous and toxic creatures swim within its murky waters, devouring any life which would stray into their presence. This is the Sulfurous Sea, a story and example of the extent of the Tyrant’s tragic rule.
Other Lore[edit | edit source]
Other lore that is not related to Calamity bosses or biomes, but related to important figures, information and events that happened before the start of the game, such as armor.
Of the kingdoms of the world, among those long gone and those which still stand today, none can compare to the domain of the ocean crown. Its houses of vibrant coral and pearl shone like a jewel on the dull seabed. Those who lived there were prideful, and they distanced themselves from the rest of the world certain in their position that they were superior to the beings who traversed dry land. This led them to be seclusive, and though many knew of its existence and beauty, nearly none knew of the world within its walls. It lay far beneath the surface away from the prying eyes and grasping hands of the humans who sought its riches, and thus existed peacefully without disruption for hundreds of years. Yet change is inevitable, and the tranquil world beneath the waves would soon be breached.
Amidias was heir to royalty, and was destined to take the throne to lead his people once he became of age. Yet, Amidias’ disparity to the rest of his kind was quite evident from the moment he could make his own decisions. Choosing to explore what lay beyond the walls of the palace, he enjoyed the company of dolphins and other fish, learning much of the world from them. However, one day, he learnt of the terrors of the world above. A whale he had been following was brutally injured, and harpooned to death only to then be hauled onto a great wooden ship. The water turned from crystal clear to a murky red with the blood of the animal within seconds. He could not approach the area for days due to the nausea induced by the mere smell of it. He now knew of the terrible weapons and ambitious minds of the sailors who often searched for his hidden city looking for treasures to ransack and sell. He wished only the best for his people, and as he grew older he began to worry for the protection of the kingdom in which they lived.
In time, as his father passed, Amidias inherited the crown and gained a family. No longer would he explore beyond the walls into the vibrant blue, or muse of life’s curiosities, drifting in the open waters. He constantly worried for the wellbeing of his family, never allowing his children to explore for themselves. He was brave, and a warrior in heart, but weighed down with the burdens of life. He feared that he could not protect them all. He vowed never to allow his people to venture to the land above, and yet… even with his greatest efforts, it was once more inevitable that if they would not change, change would meet them.A man who could breathe as easily as they could, move with equal swiftness, strike with as much power, if not more, swam to the depths to hold council with Amidias. He sought no treasures, would take no captives. All he wanted, was for Amidias to listen to an offer. One that would grant power, magic, great control… and Amidias refused. He could sense the madness in the mind of the man who had come from above. Nothing like the simple, greedy ambitions of the men who wanted to live as kings, rich from the ocean’s bounty, but rather, a burning hatred that had cooled to the razor’s edge of obsidian. Amidias would take no part in his schemes. Upon his refusal, the man had nothing to say. He stood silently, and nodded before leaving. They would never see him again, yet that night, their world would turn to one of scorching flames.
The combat gear of a certain ninja clan, infused with the energy of the same god whose power they drew upon. However, many of the clan's secrets were lost when they were wiped out, including the construction of their traditional armor. Only possessing a fraction of the original's agility and strength, this reconstruction more closely reflects the condition of the armor worn by Statis, the last of his bloodline, at the end of his life.
Statis[edit | edit source]
In ancient times, the world was split not between nations formed of governments, but rather of factions or clans. Among these groups, wars and battles would often break out, costing them many lives, and deepening angry wounds. Often, they would stop at nothing to destroy any particular rival of their own, and so, would bring about destruction to themselves and their enemies. In this fashion, many lives were shaped amidst bloody turmoil, and pathetic tragedies were common. However, one clan stood separate from the mindless brutality. It hid amongst the shadows, allying none and an unknown enemy to all. Many even doubted its existence, yet, in our time, there is one undeniable legacy which confirms its actuality. For this was the clan from which the legendary ninja, Statis was born from.
Statis was raised into a troubled world. In those times, though the age of warring factions had passed, only one family held control over the land, in an iron grip. The centralized regime had taken up residence in the far jungle, and many of the clan’s younger generation had decided that the time had come to abandon the seclusive ways of old, and join the ranks of the tyrannical army the royal family had already amassed. However, there were obviously those who sought to uphold the ancient traditions which had lasted the clan for so long. Among these people were Statis’ parents. They raised him to follow in their footsteps, to learn of the arts that his ancestors had passed down for so many generations. From the moment he could walk, they took him deep into the mountain paths, and high amongst the peaks. He spent a childhood of serenity, among the distant peaks, climbing sheer rock faces, learning to walk so that not a sound could be heard, and to hunt while only taking what he needed. Among these, he also had his other practices, which involved deep studies of the weapons and techniques that the greatest of his bloodline had used in battle. Even as conflicts and arguments which often grew violent seemed to occur daily around him, Statis remained vigilant in his duties. And soon, at a young age, his efforts were recognized by three elders, those who held the highest authority. Sensing great potential within the child, they decided upon something which had weighed heavily on their minds for quite some time. Who would carry on their legacy? As the number of those who remained loyal and were capable warriors dwindled, they had realized that their clan’s fate was sealed. The golden age had passed. And so, they sought out one last person: one truly worthy of bearing the legacy of the Statigel clan upon their shoulders, one worthy enough for them to depart their knowledge, their gifts, and even their burdens upon. Receiving his parent’s blessing, Statis was now trained personally by the elders. Learning the rituals and arts which were some of the closest guarded secrets of his clan, Statis honed his skills to a razor’s edge, and ever further. By the time his fifteenth birthday had passed, his abilities in stealth and assassination surpassed what even the elders could not have dreamed of in their prime. And yet, he remained ever loyal, simply training daily until the time he would be needed.It was a pale winter day when the armies of the royal family first arrived at the stronghold. The method by which they had reached this secret place was immediately, and heart wrenchingly clear. Among those who lead the troops to their position, were all too familiar faces. Those who had once been family to some, and friends to others. They had betrayed their old companions out of bitter frustration. Amongst the sea of the opposing army, the elder’s fears were finally confirmed. This would be the end of the clan’s existence. Statis truly was their last, and only hope. By now, he had grown into a young man, and the rate by which his skills had increased since had not slowed either. Alerting him, the three bestowed their final gifts. One, gave him a kunai of phantom-like properties. The other, a sash containing the blessings and powers of an ancient god. And the final, the armor of the founder of the clan, who had forged it from the solidified essence of the primordial god who had partaken in the creation of all life on the planet. With these, they bid him goodbye, and one last request. To never betray the teachings which he had so far stayed true to his entire life, encounter what horrors or tragedies he may. And with those final words, he struck out under the cover of a clouded night. Silently, he carved a path of death through the encampments of the enemy army. Not until the break of dawn, when the forces rallied to finally destroy the stronghold, did they realize nearly a quarter of their army had been silently, and mercilessly cut down. From then on for decades, and even into the Jungle Tyrant’s rule, those distant mountains were considered cursed, and none of the army ever dared to venture into its rocky valleys and dark cliffs, in fear of the silent assassin- Statis.
Having removed the impurities from the scrap found beneath the frozen tundra, the alloy once used by the great inventor Daedalus holds many of its original qualities, though noticeably dulled by centuries spent encased in ice. Despite the fact that it was never intended for battle during its conceptualization, it’s notable strength and versatility lends it credit as equipment with considerable power.
Daedalus[edit | edit source]
During his time, Daedalus was a genius in nearly every field of science and art. He constructed weapons for battle, designed towering marvels, and peered ever further into the miracle of life. He was also an excellent strategist in battle, as proven in his efforts to protect the kingdom which was his patron. Never once did it fall to an enemy siege, nor did it fail in its conquests. Yet, Daedalus detested war, merely seeing it as a waste of resources and time. He only ever gave advice to battles he knew would be crucial to the capitol’s survival. However, he never found these to provide him interest enough, and would always once more turn to the mysteries of life, the code of the universe. Of course, such brilliance does not go uncredited, nor unnoticed. His name was common knowledge across the land, and many sought to possess his intellect, either to destroy or utilize to fit their needs. Unsurprisingly, every attempt to capture the scientist, be it in battle or not, failed. Even factions who aimed to recruit him peacefully found their offers rejected, for the simple reason that Daedalus was as loyal to his patrons as he was wise. He was void of carnal desires, as well as instinctual fears. It was as if he was one of his own creations, each gear perfectly calibrated, the system fine tuned for maximum efficiency. It seemed he would never falter. However, time passes, as it does, and like any mortal man, Daedalus began to succumb to old age. The inevitable approach of death. As he grew old, the vigor of youth fled his body. If his weary mortal form were to fail him, he would never decipher the language of the universe, as he hoped to do. He would seek a way to cheat death. Once more falling back to the reliability of calculations devoid of emotion, he devised a last bid for life. He worked like a madman in his final days, never showing his face, nor making human contact when necessary. After countless days of toil, assisted only by his own creations, he had built a device capable of replicating the complexities of the human mind, a massive machine, the culmination of a life spent exploring every nook and cranny of the known world. It was finally complete. And that was the year when Yharim came to power. The Jungle Tyrant’s own chief advisor and scientist, the cyborg known as Draedon, was of course aware of Daedalus’ intellect. Although he also knew of the scientist’s aversion to violence, he believed that it would be necessary in their conquests for him to be eliminated before they could make forward progress. He himself led the Tyrant’s forces against the city, forces that far outnumbered the armies the kingdom had withstood before. Even had Daedalus not been occupied with his own dilemma, his assistance might not have been able to halt the attack. Daedalus himself knew that this would be his final chance to complete his life’s work. As the siege above prolonged for days, which became weeks, his plan advanced, the machine working away at the challenge of preserving the miracle of consciousness. However, as he awaited its completion, yet another foreign emotion wormed into his mind. Guilt. Above, carnage raged on, and many lives were lost. It would be one of the worst atrocities in recorded in history. He knew it had been a hopeless battle from the beginning, but such a slaughter… even he could not ignore such an atrocity. In his obsession to cheat death he had nearly betrayed those who had kindly provided for him, shelter and resources. In a fit of anger, at the at the invading forces, and himself, he redirected the power meant to sustain his mind after he had converted it, to trigger a series of massive explosions, which would cause devastating losses to the invading army. This would mean that he would never complete his life's mission, but he knew it had to be done. He would never be able to live with the guilt that he had abandoned his duties entirely. As the walls of the city finally fell, and its people were massacred, Daedalus at last looked death in the eye, and triggered the explosives. Most of Yharim’s army was destroyed, along with the city itself. The blast was of such power, that it incinerated Daedalus with his laboratories deep underground, embedding shrapnel far into the earth, and transforming the area into a frigid wasteland.
Archmage Permafrost was once renowned as the greatest wizard in all the lands. Born to a wealthy family with access to innumerable tomes and scrolls detailing mundane and magnificent magic alike, he studied tirelessly and etched his name into history by pioneering the creation of several spellcasting systems. However, his growing pride as the brilliant mage that revolutionized magic was dashed as he enlisted in the army - shattered as he witnessed his advancements used by both sides to butcher the other with ever greater ease, in ever more horrifying ways.
Permafrost withdrew quietly as the war raged on. He collected all the literatures of his family and took them to the snow-covered mountains, where he created a frozen castle to guard that knowledge from those that would abuse such power. Rumours of the Archmage and his vast library of forbidden knowledge in the castle of ice spread, drawing earnest scholars and wicked men alike to him. Permafrost’s perception of others sharpened until he could read their intentions with the slightest glance; in his decades of seclusion and the thousands that approached him, only a select few possessed an integrity that assured the Archmage his teachings would not be misused.When Yharim, recently crowned as the Ruler of the Jungle, set foot in the castle of ice and asked for the Archmage’s guidance, Permafrost had already all but judged him completely; a brief talk betrayed the nature of Yharim’s rise to the throne and confirmed his character. Permafrost refused - and Yharim never told him that his refusal would be the Archmage’s last interaction with another human for many generations.
Once worn by what can only be described as a monster, it is written that if it's original owner were to wear it once more the entire universe would not know rest for another ten thousand years. It is said that the armor was made from the flesh, teeth, and nails of its original owner. Only someone who were to prove their strength among the strongest warriors would be able to break their seal. However, these anecdotal writings are from an age long lost to the passage of time. The being has not been viewed by the naked eye in eons and it is also written that a mere sighting of it would drive a layperson mad.
Despite wading through countless wars on the shoulders of the Great Hero Braelor, this armor remains as immaculate as on the day it was forged. Blessed by the gods with unmatched endurance, its metal grows like a living being to mend its injuries and draws upon the energy of the planet to protect and heal its user; there is little wonder how its first master fended off the onslaught of the Jungle Tyrant's forces for years on end.
Braelor[edit | edit source]
Braelor was born in a distant village far on the outskirts of the Royal Family’s kingdom. As a child, it was clear that he was blessed with herculean strength, for at a young age he was already completing tasks that many grown men would have found impressive. Word of these feats spread quickly among the many settlements, by method of travelers who crossed those roads. Eventually, it inevitably caught the attention of the jealous and insecure ruling family of that time. They had to have control of the young man who so impressed the people of their kingdom, or control would be difficult to maintain. Sending an envoy to recruit him into their forces, they sent all they could offer. Gold, fame, land. And Braelor turned it all down. Only until they wove a clever lie about an opposing kingdom’s army threatening war to their own, and that his village would likely be destroyed unless he himself fought for them was Braelor convinced. He would have become a warrior for the Royal family under these mislead conditions, had it not been for another man who had heard of his power. Statis.
Before Braelor left with the envoy, the assassin visited him in the night. He bore a single message and bade the young man to follow him. Still naive, though wary, Braelor trusted Statis, as the cloaked man immediately made himself known. Statis was going to take him to see something that he would need to know. It was not a short journey, but Statis led him swiftly through the night. And they soon came upon the burnt remains of a village settlement. Having never left far from his home before, Braelor had never seen something akin to the destruction before him. Corpses remained, festering flesh hanging off their frames and flies buzzing through their remains. And in the middle of the ruins, the Royal Family’s banner. Braelor would not return to leave with the envoys the next day.
Years later as the looming threat of a rebellion became ever more apparent, it were these two men who were the prime targets for capture and execution. What the Royal Family feared was exactly what had occurred. As a symbol of honor and valor in a battle against oppression, none would come to mind other than the warrior bedecked in the heart of the jungle’s bark, Braelor. Any attempt to crush the rebellion failed, for in the mountains where they resided, their forces held sway with Statis’ knowledge and Braelor’s leadership. For years on end it seemed that these two would be able to overthrow the ruling class and bring about a new, better age.However even for the valiant warriors which Braelor and Statis held command over, not all would proceed as planned. For nearing the time in which it would have been best to strike, before their very eyes, the Royal Family which they at once both hated and knew so well, was torn apart from the inside. And a new era would begin which would leave them behind, struggling to keep up. For their new foe was stronger, more confident, and more ruthless. Yharim had arrived.
Though Yharim's overflowing charisma earned him the loyalty of monsters such as the Devourer of Gods, they still required the occasional threat of force to remain obedient. Hand-picked by the Jungle Tyrant, the keepers of the Devourer wore armor forged from its cosmic steel plating. Charged with the essence of slain gods, those who bear the armor are said to experience apotheosis - standing above even the divine with superhuman strength and boundless durability.
The armor worn by the mythical Dryad, Silva. It is woven with the most pure and powerful form of nature magic, as Silva herself drew from the collective life force of every plant in Terraria during the fabrication of the armor. This eternal pool of vitality is stored within the armor itself, and upon its wearer sustaining injuries, lends its spirit, mending their injuries, and healing their scars. Of course, such rejuvenating power is difficult to sustain, and the armor must take time to renew its pool of mana, limiting its abilities.
Silva[edit | edit source]
From the first day creatures probed their way onto solid ground, plant life had always held the upper hand in demographics. Trees spread their boughs over quiet hills, and algae crept its way along raging waterfalls, each leading their own, quiet lives. However, predecessor and overseer to it all, is the first nature spirit, Silva.
Having been borne from the conceptualization of flora, and becoming the first Dryad, Silva was one of immense wisdom and power. With her connection to all the plant life in the land of Terraria, her health and vitality were linked to the well-being of its entire population, from the sprawling forests to each blade of grass. She would continue to live as long as somewhere, the tiniest plant still spread its leaves. In order to shave away at the countless centuries of her lifespan, much of Silva’s time was spent slumbering deep beneath the earth. As she only awoke when nature was in great peril, rarely did anyone see her. Thus, she was naught but a legend.That is, until the flames of Yharim’s dragon, Yharon, razed much of the jungle during the time he single-handedly overthrew his predecessors, the prior Jungle Tyrants, to begin his rule. The devastation caused by the attack was on the scale that Silva was weakened considerably. In order to stop further destruction, she made the decision to stay conscious until her power had returned. However, word soon reached her ear of the mounting resistance, gathering those across the land who sought to topple the Tyrant’s rule. Rather than waiting, she took her chances, and decided to make herself known to the forces of Braelor and Statis. Considerably encouraged by the appearance of a powerful nature spirit, the two warriors went to battle, aiming to strike down the Tyrant. They never returned. When Silva herself went forward to try her hand, it appeared that, from the information gleaned from the prior assailant’s minds, most likely Braelor or Statis themselves, the witch Calamitas had learnt of her existence. In response, she had prepared a contingency. Taking control of the waste and pollution formed from Draedon’s constant experiments, she swallowed the Dryad within a pit of the filth. It was living torture, each breath a struggle, and the air burning as the corruption filled Silva’s lungs- yet she could not die, only fade away. Having suffocated Silva to a near comatose state, Calamitas finally released control of the toxins, collapsing from the strain of containing the Nature Spirit, and allowing the waste to flow into the waters of the ocean. As Silva sank with the filth, the form of the Dryad began to crumble away. Only her soul was confined to the depths of the Abyss, where the constant flow of noxious chemicals spewing from hydrothermal vents kept her from gathering enough power to rise once more. However, her influence as a powerful Dryad continues to be apparent, as her very presence allows plant life to grow in the abyss, where not even a trace of light can breach the darkness.
Notes[edit | edit source]
- The first Mechanical Boss killed will drop the Mechanical Boss lore item and their respective lore item.
- The official lore of Terraria is not influenced to the Calamity Mod lore and it is treated as a separate canon.
Trivia[edit | edit source]
- Given the language and ideas expressed by the Lore Items, it is likely that they were written by the Tyrant King, Yharim.
- This is especially apparent with the mention of controlling Queen Bees, knowledge of the Mechanical Bosses' history, apparent hate for the Underworld and Brimstone Crag, and mention of the Ravager being built in an attempt to halt his onslaught.
- The Abyss and the Sunken Sea are the only biomes without official lore. The Abyss only has a few lore fragments on Silva's lore. The Sunken Sea, on the other hand, has many more fragments in many lore entries with the current knowledge that the Sunken Sea is related to the sea that was incinerated by Calamitas.
- The phrase, "Your impending doom approaches..." on the Lunatic Cultist Lore Item is a nod to a similar Status Message when the Moon Lord is being summoned.
- King Slime, Moon Lord and the post-Moon Lord bosses don't have Lore items, although it has been confirmed that more bosses will eventually have Lore items in a future update.
- Only a few biomes have Lore items, meaning the rest likely have a Lore item to be implemented or do not have connections with the lore.
|Combat||Lifesteal • Minions • Proficiency • Rogue|
|Environment||Events • Music • Status messages|
|Items||Consumable • Crafting stations (By Hand) • Drops • Rarity • Recipes • Vanilla item recipes|
|Game||AI • Armageddon • Boss Health Bar • Boss Rush • Configuration options • Death Mode • Defiled Rune • Fishing • Game controls • Iron Heart • Lore • Revengeance Mode • Vanilla changes|
|Player||Adrenaline Meter • Aggro • Buffs and Debuffs • Death Prevention • Defense • Rage Meter|